


light my candles in a daze

by desdemonalore



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Crossdressing, Forced Relationship, M/M, Mental Instability, Mpreg, Peter Needs a Hug, Possessive Behavior, Quentin Beck Being a Jerk, Rape/Non-con Elements, Triggers, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23442673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desdemonalore/pseuds/desdemonalore
Summary: Lots and lots and lots of triggers.Quentin forces himself on his ex omega. Whatever could go wrong?
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of triggers! I'm not gonna go through them all, but there's explicit rape and abuse. 
> 
> Also, Quentin is bipolar along with other diagnoses. He misrepresents people who are affected with this disorder. He uses it as an excuse to hurt people. 
> 
> https://youtu.be/LYfnBsaTVEo  
> This is my favorite Nirvana song. Check it out!
> 
> Okay, lastly, this ain't my best work. I wrote it and I didn't really enjoy it, but someone's bound to, right? I'm sorry, I'm trying to learn to write better. I don't have a very good style. It's like, weird, because I day things that are dumb.

Peter was healing, both physically and mentally. He was wearing his coziest sweater, sans a pair of pants, and snuggling up with a sheet of hot brownies. There was an action movie playing quietly on his television, but he was busy reading about his hero, Tony Stark. 

He couldn't lay on his stomach because of his wounds; rather he had to ice them through his sweater. He was planning to get some work done, maybe do a face mask, paint his nails, anything that would help him feel good. 

But his plans of bliss where was a knock on the door. 

Peter groaned, rolling out of his makeshift blanket bed with a wince. He pulled his sweater down further so it covered the tops of his bruised thighs and walked to the door. 

He leaned into the door, looking through the small window. There, Peter could see a broad, muscular chest hugged tight to a t-shirt, the slope of masculine chin. It was Quentin. As quiet as possible, Peter tip-toed backward to his little nest, unearthing a pocket knife for protection. He'd pretend like he wasn't home. 

Then he heard the clink of the door being opened. Peter could already feel the painful pressure of tears burning into the backs of his eyes, desperate to flee upon frustration. He was tired, he was hurt, and he was totally helpless. A long time ago, he thought he could manage, he thought he would be safe on his own, alpha-less. It was only inevitable.

Giving in, he hoped he would be able to calm his ex-alpha's rage. The monthly ruts Quentin was subjected to were equally as challenging for him as they were for Peter. But he wasn't completely cruel. He came by two days ago, so his horny ruthlessness was bound to be at least mildly soothed.. right? 

The omega rummaged through his clothing until he found a pair of sweatpants. He slid into them and tied the band at the waist, feeling confident that he'd be safe. Peter couldn't help but notice how attractive the alpha was. The older man was sculpted, in a softer way. He had a body made to protect his omega, both offensively and defensively. 

But Peter was well aware of the misuse of his ex's body. 

He placed a protective palm over the flat of his stomach, resisting a pained flinch. He steeled himself, feet planted confidently on the ground, and his shoulders squared. Still, he managed to only reach Quentin's chest. 

"Why are you here?" Peter asked. He was sick of this, sick of the fear. He could smell Quentin. He smelled angry and horny and scary and comforting. A memory flitted past him, the time Quentin brought him out drinking. It was one of their first dates, and Peter sat on his lap peacefully. It nearly brought a smile on his face.

"Miss you," Quentin said simply. He was cunning. He was smart in a way that he always knew what Peter was going to do, what he was going to say. 

"I'm done with this, Quentin, I told you I'm not interested in having an alpha."

"That's what you said when we got together, puppy," Quentin rebutted. He approached, and Peter didn't move. He didn't even shrink away. He was trying to think like Quentin, think ahead of time, where to go. 

He saw an opening and he went for it. And he nearly got the door, too, he would have if it weren't for Quentin's arm scooping him up around the middle. He knew not to fight. As desperate as he was to prove himself as a capable omega, he knew he would only exert himself. 

Quentin wasn't careful when he laid Peter down. "Tell Daddy you missed him," Quentin demanded as he slowly undressed Peter. His fingers briefly brushed the dry bandaged scars across his abdomen. A warm, sympathetic look flickered over his face for no more than a second. 

Peter gulped. He didn't fight Quentin, but he didn't lean into him, either. He didn't make a sound or unlock his knees as Quentin discarded their pants, and he didn't even flinch (although he wanted to) when his thighs were wrenched apart. He used to fight back, once, but he knew the more he struggled, the more it would hurt for him in the end. 

He shut his eyes as Quentin planted himself between the omega's legs, pushing his soft, hairless legs over his own. He pushed the head of his cock against the boy's tight hole. The alpha placed a heavy, warm hand on the boy's cheek. "Brace yourself, sweetheart." 

Peter nodded. Another memory crossed his mind; their first time together, the way Quentin caressed his cheek and kissed him passionately. The way he kissed a trail to Peter's thighs and kissed and kissed and kissed, the way he licked and rubbed his beard into the sensitive flesh. The way he sunk his teeth, much to Peter's dismay, into the skin, marking him with purple hickies and bruises that showed he was taken. 

Quentin leaned forward, crushing Peter's body between his own and the floor. The omega bit back a cry, but he couldn't hold it back once Quentin's jaw was locked into his shoulder, sniffing at his scent glands, rubbing his beard into it. Scent claiming, again, so no other alpha had the courage to rub up on Peter. 

The older man pushed his cock into Peter with hardly a care. The omega was sobbing openly now; tears rolling down his cheeks, breathing heavy pants into his arms. He wanted this to end. He felt Quentin's teeth scraping and teasing at his claiming mark, but his skin never broke the surface. 

Why didn't he just claim Peter? Did he not want him? Was he just a toy, his unequal, worth no more than sex and relief? 

The fact that not even Quentin wanted to claim him broke his heart. He denied the fact he'd love to be with an alpha for all of his life, but he couldn't squash his desires. He'd seen his omegan friends cuddling and being cherished and used publicly by their alphas, and he couldn't help but want that for himself. Even with someone as careless, as rotten as Quentin. 

The older man snapped his hips in and out roughly. He was sitting in the position you do when you propose to an omega romantically, bent over Peter. He pushed all the way in and grabbed Peter's hair, pulling it back so their eyes were forced to meet. 

Quentin growled as he came. He filled Peter until he was uncomfortably full and pulled from the boy's tight hole. He leaned down, burrowed his face into Peter's hair, and breathed in. His pheromones switched from intense and dangerous to light and tender, the way an alpha should almost always smell. 

He kissed Peter's ear. "Daddy's gotta go, sweetheart."


	2. Chapter 2

Peter wriggled his way into a pair of jeans and a comfy sweater. As he was digging through his closet, he saw one of Quentin's shirts hanging on the rack. He couldn't help himself; his arm reached out, snagged the T-shirt from the closet, and buried his face into it. 

He never recalled a time where he loved Quentin's scent so much. It was dizzying, the feelings he got. He felt safe, comforting, warm, protected… he didn't have enough time to get off before he was due at the library to meet MJ and Ned. 

Sighing, he smelled the shirt once again, breathing in the faint fragrance of Quentin. He was growing wet in his panties, but, nonetheless, he rehung the shirt and grabbed his books. 

"God, Peter," MJ said, sniffing at him with a scowl.

"What?" The brunette questioned, sitting beside her. She shifted away. "You smell like that guy."

"Alpha-- Quentin?" Peter asked with a frown. Ned nodded. 

"It's like normal times five." 

Peter sniffed the collar of his sweater as if he would be able to smell Quentin. Flushing, he said, "he scent claimed me again. Last week."

MJ debated that with a snarl. She shook her head, hair shaking with the movement.

"I don't know… you smell… did you guys… do it?" Ned asked shyly. 

"Do what?" Peter asked innocently, tilting his head in confusion. 

"Sex, Peter, did you have sex with him?" MJ explained. 

Peter cringed at the question. He hadn't explicitly told his friends that he wanted the alpha to stop fucking the alpha post breakup. "Maybe."

"Did he finish inside?" MJ persisted. 

"Um, yeah," Peter replied. He remembered how full and swishy it felt in him. 

Ned and MJ scared a skeptical look. The implication was obvious; Peter was pregnant. But that was impossible, he didn't want a pup. In fact, he could hardly support himself, let alone a baby. 

He placed a hand on his stomach and felt the burn as his cloth bandages dug into the scars. He hissed, recoiling in on himself. MJ stared at him, her eyes creased in worry. 

"I have to go," Peter said, standing up. 

"Wait!" Ned called. Peter didn't glance back. "You didn't even check out books…" 

Peter walked straight to the nearest convenience store. First, he picked up three pregnancy tests. Then, he couldn't help but pick up a carton of ice cream in order to stress eat all of his feelings away. 

He got in line behind an older omega with a baby cuddled to his chest, cordially holding the hand of a young boy, and standing beside a newly presented alpha. The alpha looked at Peter with a screwed up nose. 

"You can't trust those, sweetheart," the omega said with a sad smile. He tucked his chin against the baby's head and cooed softly.

"What do I do then?" Peter asked. He sounded bitter. He told himself to calm down; it wasn't this poor omega's fault he got knocked up by his abusive ex-alpha. 

"The doctor's. They'll tell you what, alright?" The alpha growled and protectively drew his father closer. The brunette shook his head, swishing his chin-length brown hair. "I gotta go, sweetheart, good luck." 

The walk home tired Peter's legs. He was sleepy, and all he wanted to do was curl in bed. He felt mildly perturbed by all of the cold looks alpha's casted on him. He was used to them admiring him, staring at him like property. They always used to flirt with him or rub on him when they passed, even if Quentin was standing beside him, growling. 

He looked down at his shoes as he sprinted through the crowded streets of New York, racing through the angry-looking alphas and the tender omegas with sympathetic eyes. Was it that obvious? Why was it anyone's business, anyway? 

He slammed the door open, tears threatening to spill, and you wouldn't believe who he saw.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is bad and I'm bad I'm sorry

"GET OUT!" Peter hissed. When Quentin did nothing more than offer the omega that handsome, infuriating smile of his, Peter mounted his hips. He punched Quentin's chest until the alpha slapped him. 

Quentin rolled so he was above Peter, his fingers wrapped in a stern grip around the boy's throat. He wasn't yet pressing, just holding him by his throat firmly. "You do not speak to me like that, boy. I'm your alpha, you respect me. Yessir. Say it, puppy, say 'yessir'."

Peter offered a pathetic growl, and Quentin tightened his grip. "You're not my alpha." 

Peter was teeming with hate. He had never hated someone so purely, so entirely, with his whole. He was full of blind rage. He was helpless too. Whether he liked him or not, Quentin was necessary. He was having his pup now. He needed protection. Who would want an omega with another alpha's pup, anyway? 

He didn't want this. God, he didn't want this. This was his nightmare. Once again, he was sobbing violently. Ugly sobbing. He couldn't contain his loud cries. Quentin instantly softened. He curled around Peter protectively. "Daddy's sorry, baby. Daddy's sorry. I don't know what came over me… I just… you know how I am. It's hard for me. I want you to respect me."

Peter wiped at his eyes. If this was his life now, he'd have to accept it. Besides, it would be easier once he had their pups and Quentin was at his tenderest, right? "I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't disrespect you like that." 

"Good boy," Quentin whispered. He kissed the boy's ear and stood, picking Peter up bridal style. He placed the omega on the counter in the kitchen. He kissed Peter's sweet spot, right where he smelled so sweet. 

"What do you want to eat?" Quentin asked him. 

"I should cook, I'm the omega--"

"Not tonight, anything you want, baby boy. I will never be able to make up for what I put you through, but I'm gonna treat you like the princess you are." 

He raised his hand to the boy's cheek and Peter nuzzled. 

Quentin wasn't so bad, but Peter hated him so fucking much. He needed Quentin, he needed the man's support and comfort. If Quentin wasn't with him everywhere he went, he almost immediately had a panic attack. He wouldn't be able to breathe. 

Quentin's tolerability was expended quickly. Soon enough, he was back to his old self. But he never hurt Peter's stomach and growing baby bump. Rather, he kissed it and rubbed it. 

He was at work now, and although his absence was painful, it was much needed. It was hard to relax without Quentin, but it was good to relax without Quentin. Sure, every noise, creak, bump terrified him and sent him running to the nests he'd been preparing for days now. He was trying to make the perfect nest. 

But he couldn't shake this thought. 

In the kitchen, he was cooking dinner for Quentin, he noticed a bottle of pills. He wondered whose they were. He didn't know whether to tuck them back into the spice cabinet where Peter kept his own pills, or leave it there, in the middle of the counter. 

The blossoming mother in him begged him to place the bottle in the cabinet, beside his own pills. But the obedient omega in him knew he should only listen to what his alpha told him explicitly. But maybe it's presence was enough of an implication. 

Just as he was worrying about what to do, Quentin walked through the door. He was smiling broadly. "What are you doing, puppy?" 

"Do.. do you want me to--" Quentin snatched the bottle out of his hands and pocketed the pills. 

"It's my mood stabilizer," the man explained, he gingerly picked Peter up by the waist and placed him on the counter. "What are you cooking, pretty boy?"

"Why do you need a mood stabilizer?" Peter asked, tilting his head in confusion. Quentin sighed. He kissed the omega's nose and leaned against the opposing counter. 

"I've got manic depression, pup, that's why I'm so mean to you sometimes."

Peter didn't think that was a good reason to hurt someone, but he let it slide. He rubbed his hand against Quentin's chest, unable to get any closer to the man he so deeply loathed. 

He popped off of the counter and onto his feet and moved as close as he could to Quentin. So close together that the only thing that ended Peter and began Quentin was their clothing. That and the obstacle of Peter's fully developed baby bump. He was nearly two months pregnant, and he'd be due soon enough. No more than two weeks at the most. 

Quentin rested a hand on the boy's tummy. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too," Peter replied absently.

Quentin smacked the boy's ass, grinning. "Nobody will ever love you like I do, puppy. You were created for me. Say 'yessir'."

Peter nodded at the sentiment. No matter how deeply he wished it was untrue, he couldn't escape from it. He was Quentin's, unclaimed or not. "Yessir."

Quentin kissed his hairline. "'M property."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you felt something a little at least

The red dress was long, all the way to Peter's ankles, elegantly wrapped in knitted socks. It was low cut, showing the majority of his collarbones and shoulders. He gave another elegant swirl, carefully placing a tender hand on his baby bump. 

"That's it, boy, God, you look good." Peter didn't feel like replying. He could feel the familiar pressure building behind his eyes. Was he really going to cry now? When he was modelling the most beautiful dresses that his doting alpha bought for him? 

Quentin stood, he cupped Peter's face, and the omega couldn't hold back the tears any longer. The man kissed each tear from rolling down his pale cheeks. "Don't cry, pup, you look prettier when you smile."

Peter nuzzled into Quentin's shoulder, making no effort to conclude his sobs. He wrapped his arms around Quentin's broad shoulders in a vain attempt of comfort. The alpha untangled their bodies and pushed Peter onto the bed, face down. He unzipped the dress and shimmied it down the boy's unresponsive body.

The boy sobbed into his arms, tearful and snotty, loudly sniffling. He wanted those arms to protect him, to love him, to cherish him. He didn't want sex. He never wanted sex.

Quentin yanked the boy's head back by his hair. "I told you to stop crying. Now, show some respect. Apologize. 'Yessir'. Say it. Now." 

"Yessir," Peter choked, but he couldn't stop crying. He allowed himself to be moved. He was exposed, naked and vulnerable, unprotected. Quentin rolled Peter onto his back. He wanted to trust his instincts. He wanted to believe that Quentin wouldn't harm his baby, but he didn't know that. 

He wiped at his eyes pathetically. Quentin forced the boy's thighs apart and nestled into his self-designated spot, pinning the boys legs under his own. 

Quentin placed a hand on the boy's tummy softly. He treated it with care. He leaned in close, oh-so close to Peter, kissed him and down his jaw. Down his neck, right until he reached the spot he wanted. 

The pain of Quentin's sharp canines digging into his skin, right into the most sensitive part of his body, made him scream. He weakly pounded against the older man's muscular back, crying to be released. 

Quentin just ignored him. 

The sheets rustled. "Pup?"

Peter stood. He was dressed in one of Quentin's shirts and a pair of frilly panties that his alpha told him to wear. "Just gonna get some water, sir." 

"Let me come with you." Quentin said, sitting up with a worried look clenched across that stupid handsome face of his. 

"No, sir--" 

"You could get hurt--"

"Listen to yourself, alpha. You need your sleep." Peter leaned in and kissed his head maternally. The man purred at the brief exchange. 

"Hurry back then, sweetheart."

Peter tip-toed into the kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets and retrieved a glass. As he was pouring water, he saw a bottle of prescription pills sitting on the counter. Something in him, something not himself, grabbed the bottle and uncapped it. Something not himself poured the bottle's entire contents into his palm. 

Something not himself placed his hand to his mouth and downed them each. He bit back a dry gag. 

He followed the midnight snack with the water before he returned to bed. Quentin was awake. The pregnancy pheromones drove him absolutely wild, and now that Peter was freshly his, the man was crazy with him. 

The boy curled into bed calmly, yawning sleepily. 

"Wake up," Quentin growled in the morning, but Peter didn't respond. 

The breakfast he bought laid untouched and cold on the kitchen counters, right next to a bottle of lithium he didn't realize was empty.


End file.
